Before the summer gets away from us, take a minute to appreciate a cicada on a sizzling day. – Paul Hetzler, contributor Saturday Evening Post

When I was small, my mother told me that moths were butterflies banished to the night. The parable…was meant to warn me against wanting things I could not have. – Elizabeth Inness, Brown-American novelist, educator (1954-)

The morning started out warm, somewhere in the seventies, it was quite comfortable. From down the gravel road came the sound of a fast-moving vehicle. Sam and I both guessed the mail lady; both of us were right. Actually, when we’re sitting on the porch, we both rubberneck for passing cars. It’s just something you do in the country, living down a gravel road. Turned out the mail lady knew a little more about the coming day than we did. Within the hour a hard rain with loud rolling thunder came from the west and plowed over us. The rain dropped buckets full and the thunder rolled. I had already walked to the greenhouse to check the plants and do some watering. Then came the gulley washer. Back at the house I could see Sam watching for me. I keep an umbrella in the greenhouse because you never know when a gulley washer will come.

The thunderstorm stopped as quick as it came. The blessed part is all the trees, plants and grasses are healthy and green. Very little of the outside areas have needed any water. I guess the downside is getting caught in the rain and possibly the downed trees and sticks. The downed branches were weakened so it’s a natural way of pruning trees. Fortunately, where the branches fell no harm was done. The burn pile grows ever larger while awaiting a fall bonfire.

Prior to the rainfall there was a soft melody from the cicadas. It’s not the year for the cicadas that burrow in the ground for up to 20 years and sing loudly. These cicadas hum softly. Wilhelmina plays with them like a wind-up toy. Exoskeletons are discarded here and there-porch posts, trees, just about anywhere as they make their departure and leave their “skin” behind.

An interesting moth rested on the rail of the back porch. I did not know what kind of moth it may be. He was approximately six inches in wingspan and very dark in color; it was a bit unnerving. He did not move. His position did not allow me to see him from the top which would have given much needed information. He was definitely the largest moth I have ever seen. After grabbing a ruler and photographing him he flew down the porch and over to a wild cherry tree. A search on Google, by size, location, season, and coloring would seem to confirm a rare Cecropia moth. Later, Dr. Blake Layton, MSU Extension Entomologist Specialist and professor confirmed the moth to be a Black Witch Moth which is indeed rare even on the coast and more so in Lowndes County.     

Shannon Bardwell is a writer living quietly in the Prairie. Email reaches her at [email protected].